Desert Stars

by Joe Vasicek

  Lars laughed. “Don’t worry; the sleep shift lasts a good eight hours. She won’t catch you naked or anything.”

  He winked, and Jalil blushed a little harder. Fortunately, Lars turned his attention to the compartments, opening one while Jalil recomposed himself.

  “I’m putting all your stuff in compartment 3C. It’s open access right now, but if you want to program a lock, that’s up to you. The rest of us just trust each other to keep out.”

  “That’s fine,” said Jalil. It wasn’t as if he had anything valuable anyway—besides the locket around his neck.

  “Good. Then let me show you the rest of the ship.”

  Lars led him back into the corridor, which was empty. Through the bulkheads, however, he heard Nash and Michelle talking in another room.

  “The space in here is used for storage,” said Lars, pointing to a closed hatchway directly across from the door to the bunkroom. “The captain’s quarters—where Dad sleeps—are down there,” he said, pointing to the second door to the right, “and the bathroom is right here.” He palmed a keypad on the wall between the captain’s quarters and the bunkroom, and the door hissed open.

  “It looks… cozy,” said Jalil, peering in. Although the porcelain equipment looked much nicer than anything he’d had out in the desert, it was all crammed in about a quarter of the space. With barely enough room for a person to stand, he wondered how anyone used the place.

  “Most of the ship is like that,” said Lars. “We’re a small, family-owned cargo hauling operation, not a luxury liner—unfortunately.”

  “No, no, that’s perfectly fine,” said Jalil, worried that Lars had taken offense. “I like it better this way.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see if you’re still saying that nine months out. Come on; let me show you the bridge.”

  Though Lars’s comment seemed good-natured enough, Jalil wanted to object—at first, simply to be a good guest, but then because he realized it was true. Even though everything was packed into such a narrow living space, he was perfectly fine with it—in fact, it felt natural.

  Eerily so.

  “Those hatches lead up to the shuttle airlock and down to the cargo bays,” said Lars, pointing to a ladder running along a niche in the wall; hatches led to rooms above and below, while the corridor ended in a narrow door. “Engineering is further back that way—you’ll spend most of your time with ‘Chelle in that half of the ship.”

  “I see.”

  “Down this way is the bridge, the mess, and the lounge,” Lars continued, leading him down the corridor past the captain’s quarters. They passed a pair of long, narrow windows on either side of the corridor. Through the one on his right, Jalil’s eyes were drawn to the face of the planet below. The rusty red desert spread out below them. With the sun nearing the horizon, the shadows made small wavy lines, tracing patterns like the waves of an ocean. The mountains, with their sharp ravines and jagged peaks, looked like the discarded bones of ancient animals, their long vertebrae stretching across a landscape the color of old blood.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Lars. “We’re in no rush; take your time.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Jalil watched, they passed over to the night side of the planet. The rust-red desert landscape turned to pure black, unbroken by the lights of cities or domes.

  I’m crossing the sky on one of the satellites right now, he realized, a lump forming in his throat. If Mira’s down there, she can probably see me.

  The thought filled him with a strange, insatiable yearning, one that he couldn’t quite put out of his mind.

  * * * * *

  Mira was the first to see the camp. In the harsh, rocky desert, it stood out like the last surviving bastion of humanity in the midst of a barren wasteland. The colorful tents from Lena’s wedding were all gone, and the camp seemed almost abandoned. The adobe huts and sun-faded tents could have been a cluster of ancient ruins, and the rusty old windmill jutted up into the sky as if defying its own inevitable decay.

  As the caravaneer raced across the desert in the early morning light, she stared at the dismal scene and wondered at how small and insignificant it seemed. Compared to the mighty pylon cities in Raya Dome, or the nearly endless expanse of the sea in Terra 2 Dome, the Najmi camp was a mud-hole in the midst of a waste. After all she’d seen on the pilgrimage, it felt strange to think that this was her childhood home.

  “That’s strange,” said Surayya, perking up as Hamza pulled into the dusty open space of the compound. “Where is everyone?”

  They’re too ashamed to acknowledge my return, Mira thought to herself. She grew tense under her headscarf as Hamza drove up next to the garage and parked the Jabaliyn caravaneer. Once he shut off the engine, the only sounds came from the creaking of the windmill and the low whistling of the desert breeze.

  “Everybody bring something in,” Hamza ordered as he disembarked. Wordlessly, Tiera and Surayya complied. Mira picked up the camp stove and cooking supplies, hauling them in as she followed the others.

  Her mother was waiting for her just inside the tent door.

  “Leave those there,” said Shira, her voice cold. Mira hesitated for a moment of uncertainty before setting them down on the dusty carpet floor.

  “Come with me.”

  A chill shot down Mira’s neck as she followed her mother inside. She glanced down at the old peephole and saw a pair of eyes staring out at her from the shadows. How many times had she spied on her father’s guests from that same hole as a little girl? Now her sisters were peeking out at her, as if she were a stranger, an outcast.

  Perhaps that wasn’t too far from the truth.

  Her mother led her through the tents and into the kitchen, a short ways off from the living quarters. It was unlikely that anyone would overhear them through the thick adobe walls, but Mira knew that the rumors would spread either way.

  “So,” her mother started, letting the rug door fall shut behind them. “Where is Jalil?”

  Mira swallowed. With the only illumination coming from the small vent in the ceiling, she could barely see anything.

  “He left when we got to the temple,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Left? What do you mean ‘left’? Why did he leave?”

  Mira cringed at the harshness of her mother’s voice. “Because—”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to come back without him? What about that didn’t you understand?”

  “I—I did understand, Mother, and honestly, I—”

  “Heaven save me!” her mother shrieked, throwing her hands up in the air. “Why was I cursed with seven daughters and no sons? Disobedient daughters, no less! Wala!”

  Mira swallowed and blushed. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Look at me,” Shira continued, grabbing her forcibly by the chin to direct her gaze. “Look at your mother. I’m an old woman; not long now, and I’ll go the way of the Earth. Do you want me to spend the last few years of my life watching my husband’s inheritance parceled out to strangers and foreigners? Do you?”

  “No.”

  Her mother slapped her across the face—hard.

  “Then why didn’t you bring back Jalil as I ordered you to?”

  “I—I tried,” Mira stuttered, rubbing her cheek. “I did my best, but he—he didn’t want me.”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie. Of all my daughters, you are the most beautiful. No man could resist you.”

  Guilty memories of her last night with Jalil flashed across her mind. Her heart had pounded with fear as much as passion—fear that Jalil would never forgive her. Was that why she had frozen up at the last moment? In any case, it made little difference; she was left now to carry all the shame herself. After what had happened, she didn’t doubt that she deserved it.

  “Do you have any idea how important this was?” her mother continued, practically screaming. “Without a son, Sathi will take another wife—or heaven help us, the inheritance will go to the Jabaliyn and all
of us will starve!”

  “I’m sorry,” Mira whispered.

  “Sorry? Is that all you are?”

  Another slap landed hard against her face, sending her sprawling across the floor.

  “Don’t play games with me, girl,” her mother hissed. “I won’t stand for it.”

  But I’m not lying!

  “What am I ever going to do with you? Your disobedience has brought shame upon us all. If you had come back with him, we could have married you both quickly and forestalled the worst of it—but no, it had to come to this.”

  But I never slept with him, Mira wanted to protest. Instead, she hung her head and said nothing.

  “If it were up to me, I would cast you out for dishonoring the family name. Fortunately for you, your father has a plan to restore at least a fragment of honor to this family. He’s expecting you in his quarters; I suggest you see him at once.”

  “My father?” Mira asked. Her stomach fell through the floor.

  “Yes, your father. Who else, stupid girl? Now go, before I take you there myself.”

  Mira didn’t wait to be told a second time. Pulling her headscarf tight to hide her face from her spying sisters, she hurried out into the blinding sunlight. She could feel her mother’s unforgiving stare bearing down on her until the door flap swung shut behind her.

  * * * * *

  A few moments later, Mira stopped in front of the tall metal door that led to her father’s private study. Of all the rooms of the camp, this was one of the few that she’d never entered. Timidly, she lifted her hand and knocked on the steel door frame embedded in the adobe wall.

  “Come in,” her father boomed from the other side.

  She hesitated for a moment before opening the door and stepping through. Her cheeks still stung from where her mother had struck her, but she did her best to hide it.

  “Ah, Mira,” her father said, gesturing to the pile of blankets and cushions next to his bed. “Please sit.”

  Sathi looked imposing in his immaculate white robes, his red and white checkered headscarf set on his head with a golden agal. He followed her with his eyes as she sat down across from him, glancing down at the carpeted floor to avoid his gaze.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” she began, heart pounding. “With Jalil, I—”

  “Yes, yes,” he said, waving his hand. “I’m sorry, too. The entire affair has been a terrible tragedy for us all.”

  Mira nodded silently.

  “I put a great deal of trust in Jalil,” he continued, his expression grave. “He betrayed me just as much as you. However, all is not lost; there are ways to lift the burden of shame from this family and restore a degree of honor. That is why I’ve arranged for you to meet your cousin Ibrahim next week.”

  “Ibrahim? Why?”

  “To begin the marriage negotiations, of course.”

  Mira’s stomach dropped out from underneath her. “That’s—wonderful,” she stuttered. “When does he arrive?”

  “Any day now,” her father answered. “Don’t worry, Mira dear—we’ll do our best to clear your honor.”

  He thinks that I’m pregnant with Jalil’s child, Mira realized, her head spinning. He’s going to do everything he can to marry me off as quickly as possible.

  That was the last thing she needed right now.

  “I didn’t sleep with Jalil,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. There’s no reason to rush me into this marriage.

  Sathi gave her a sad, fatherly look. “There is nothing to be afraid of,” he told her. “Your mother and I will never tell anyone otherwise.”

  But I’m telling the truth.

  “Can’t I—can’t I have some time?” she asked, sweat forming on her forehead. “Everything’s happening so fast, I—”

  “Mira, my daughter—think of the family honor. This shameful affair has blacked our name more than we can afford to ignore. If we don’t take care of this now, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to cast you out.”

  Mira swallowed nervously. To be cast out—homeless, nameless, forced to wander and beg for her food—that was the worst fate that could befall anyone in her situation. The very thought of it made her stomach sink and her knees go weak.

  “Don’t be afraid, my girl,” her father continued. “Ibrahim is a perfectly respectable young man. I have no doubts that he will be a wonderful husband for you.”

  Why didn’t I go with Jalil? Mira wondered despairingly to herself. Faced with the choice between exile and a forced marriage, she wished now more than ever that she’d left for the stars with him and never come home.

  Like it or not, though, Jalil was gone—possibly forever.

  * * * * *

  Jalil followed Lars onto the bridge, where the others were already waiting for them. The forward window stretched across the front of the room, while switches and indicator panels covered the walls from floor to ceiling. As soon as he stepped in, the doors hissed shut behind him.

  “Here,” said Michelle, “you can sit in the back.” She unfolded a seat from the rear wall, next to the door.

  “Right,” he said, settling in. The seat restraints were nearly as big as the chair itself; it reminded him of the skytrain at Raya Dome. He almost turned to see how Mira was doing before remembering that she wasn’t there.

  Mark, Nash, and Lars were already in their seats, practically surrounded by myriad keypads and monitors. Out the forward window, the dark silhouette of the planet stood out against the black void of space. Jalil could barely make out clusters of city lights. The glass domes obscured most of them, though, giving the night landscape a dull yellow sheen.

  “All stations report,” said Mark from his seat in the center of the room.

  “Astrogation is go,” said Lars from his station immediately to Mark’s right. “Target destination plotted and set at forty-six-point-seven LM.”

  “Communication is go,” said Nash. “The port authority has given us clearance to leave as scheduled.”

  “Engineering is go,” said Michelle, her eyes glued to the computer monitor as she settled into her seat. “Drives charged and ready.”

  “Excellent,” said Mark. “Prepare for jump.”

  As he hit a series of keys on the controls at his station, a low hum sounded from the back of the room. The wall behind Jalil began to vibrate.

  I’ve been through this before, he realized with a start. Memories rushed back to him, of shaking with terror in a chair not unlike this one while the whole ship vibrated and roared with energy. He remembered his mother sitting next to him, holding his hand, squeezing to make the fear go away.

  “Five seconds and counting,” said Mark. “four, three…”

  What does he mean by “jump”? Jalil wondered. The hum jumped sharply in pitch and volume.

  Without warning, his stomach flipped inside out, and his heart leaped into his mouth. A wave of nausea struck him like a meteor, and the walls and ceiling shrunk until he wasn’t sure whether he was looking at the room from the inside out or the outside in. He gasped for breath as the room swam all around him.

  As suddenly as it had begun, he was back in the bridge, sitting in his chair. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he lifted a weak hand to wipe it away.

  What the hell was that?

  Outside the forward window, the normally black sky was filled with the light of stars—thousands and thousands of them, brighter even than the night sky in the deep desert. His eyes grew wide with wonder as he stared at the sight.

  “Jump complete,” said Mark, leaning back in his chair. “Nash, try to get a hold of the port authority at the system node. I want to be in the starlane before my sleep shift, if possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Nash. He busied himself at his computer.

  “What just happened?” Jalil asked.

  “We jumped about forty-five light-minutes from GN-2,” said Michelle. “Once our energy reserves build up again—probably an hour—we’ll jump to the system node and enter the starlane.”<
br />
  “But—but it was so strange,” said Jalil, still sweating.

  “Feel a little woozy, huh?” Lars asked. “Don’t worry—it’s perfectly normal.”

  “We just skipped across millions of kilometers by creating a dimensional rift in space,” Michelle explained. “It’s the only possible way to travel between stars.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” said Lars.

  “Right,” said Jalil. God-willing.

  He stared out the window at the brilliant starfield. The milky band of the galaxy streaked across his view, with the dim red cloud of the Good Hope Nebula glowing brightly to the left.

  “Where’s Karduna?”

  “Out there,” said Michelle, pointing toward the nebula. “But it’s too far away to make out from the other stars.”

  Jalil stared anyways, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything familiar. Somewhere out there was his home—his first home. He clenched his fists and repeated the thought over and over in his mind. But try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going away instead of coming back.

  Chapter 14

  “Why so glum?” Amina asked as she brushed Mira’s hair. “You should be happy—I certainly would be if I were in your position.”

  “I know,” said Mira, sighing inwardly.

  “Don’t be so harsh, Amina,” said Surayya, parting the tent door as she stepped into the dressing room. “She’s been through a lot. Ever since Jalil—”

  “I know, I know. But at least you got to sleep with him before he left, right?”

  “What?” said Mira, frowning as she turned to face her younger sister.

  Amina grinned mischievously. “Oh, don’t be so modest.”

  “I never slept with him. Never!”

  “Right…” said Amina, drawing out the word with a wink and a meaningful nod. “You never did. We understand.”

  Mira’s cheeks burned, but she swallowed the urge to argue with her sisters. It doesn’t matter what I say, she thought to herself. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.